Chopping Wood

I’m not sure why, but I have always thought about routine menial labor. Gardening has some aspects of that, for instance if you are raking a large leaf-strewn lawn or spreading large amounts of mulch around the property, but the common aspect of what I am talking about is repetitive work that almost sends you into a trance by virtue of its numbing sameness. Strangely enough, I have always felt that this sort of activity is therapeutic and somewhat meditative. I have always used the example of sweeping out the garage as such an activity because everyone knows that a garage gets dusty and cluttered and that the large external doors make sweeping it out rather easy and especially fulfilling when it is tidied up from a good sweeping. I believe the therapy comes from a combination of three things. First of all, most of us dislike disorder. There are certainly people who wallow in it and may actually prefer messiness, but mostly we all like things neat and tidy. When things are untidy we are at least subconsciously ill at ease. Therefore, the first therapeutic step is that of addressing a problem, which in and of itself has a degree of satisfaction. Then there is the physical act of sweeping. It is simple and repetitive and requires very little precision. It is, by definition a rote act, referring to something done mechanically or automatically through repetition, without much thought or consideration. It’s an action performed by habit or routine rather than through conscious decision-making or creativity. The word “rote” comes from the idea of rote learning – memorizing information through repetition rather than understanding. When we describe something as rote, we’re usually suggesting it lacks spontaneity, genuine engagement, or fresh thinking. Sweeping is a perfect rote act and it lulls the mind and is a form of rest and refreshment. That makes it a therapeutic act. And then there is the completion of the act. Standing back and looking at a clean garage always gives me a sense of profound accomplishment and satisfaction. It may seem trivial or silly, but I bet everyone who sweeps their garage feels the same. It has strangely healed them in some simplistic way and for some brief moment.

Chopping wood is a perfect example of how an activity can become a rote act through repetition and practice. When someone first learns to chop wood, they have to think about each element – their stance, grip, the angle of the swing, where to aim on the log, how to split along the grain. But after doing it hundreds or thousands of times, the body takes over. The movements become automatic: position the log, raise the axe, bring it down with practiced force and precision, split the wood, set up the next piece. An experienced wood chopper might find their mind wandering while their body continues the familiar rhythm – swing, split, stack, repeat. The physical motions become so ingrained that they require little conscious attention, much like how a pianist’s fingers can move across keys without thinking about each individual note. This kind of rote physical work can be meditative for some people. The repetitive nature allows the mind to rest while the body performs a useful task. Others might find it monotonous precisely because it becomes so automatic. But the efficiency that comes from making wood chopping a rote act is valuable – it allows someone to process a lot of firewood quickly and safely, with muscle memory handling the technique while the conscious mind can focus on other things or simply rest. I can think of few scenes that feel more peaceful than a log cabin on a frosty autumnal morning with a man wearing a red plaid shirt rolled up over a long-sleeved Henley undershirt, chopping wood for his family’s fireplace. It feels productive, serene, efficient, ecological, manly and soothing all at once. All is well with the world when you see this scene.

My old college friend Paul and I shared many similar traits and interests. We took many economics and business classes together and Paul always beat me by at least a half a grade in any of those classes. But in one way we were very different. I learned of this difference during a job we both took coding research forms for a week. Like chopping wood, there is a process to coding that you have to learn and the first form you code causes you to read the questionnaire and even think about the survey being conducted, but after one or two iterations, there is little or no thinking involved. You just transcribe numbers using your hand-eye coordination to turn pages and fill in little boxes based on the responses shown on the form. Each finished form is like the sweep of the broom on the garage floor or the swing of the axe, you move on to the iteration of the exact same thing and your mind numbs as your body takes over. I could code forms like nobody’s business and use to make up little games for myself like timing how many I could do in ten minutes. Then I would do that again while standing on one foot, first the right and then the left. I would come up with endless meaningless ways to inject some degree of variation to the process, but the result was always the same. I would look with satisfaction at the stack of completed forms and take pride in the achievement. Meanwhile, Paul would have the exact opposite reaction to the task. He simply could not do repetitive things like that. After one or two forms he would have to go take a walk or read a book. He was incapable of doing something I found so soothing to do. At the end of the week I had done 90% of the work and he had to 10%. Strangely enough, this outcome made us both happy. I was proud of my accomplishment and he was happy to have gotten through an intolerable chore by whatever means. In a nutshell, despite his academic brilliance, Paul did not succeed in business or life and I believe I have.

I have a trial coming up in which I have to testify. I did the initial review, analysis and report with my opinions almost three years ago (such is the judicial process). I have been told that my testimony is the key to the case and will be the final summarization testimony to drive home the plaintiff’s claims. Factual and accurate recall of 3,500 pages of evidence is needed, not to mention careful answering of challenging cross-examination questions. I have always found, not surprisingly, that preparation is the key to success. If you are well prepared, you are confident and if you are confident you can be compelling. Compelling means having a powerful, irresistible quality that draws attention, interest, or belief. Something compelling demands notice and consideration – it’s persuasive, fascinating, or emotionally engaging in a way that’s hard to ignore or dismiss…in this case, for the jury. A compelling case presents facts or reasoning so strong that it’s difficult to argue against. A compelling legal argument might sway a jury through its logic and evidence. This material is stuff I reviewed to write my report and then reviewed again six months later to give my deposition. Now I have to go over it again for my testimony. It’s like chopping wood. I know the material, but I have to have perfect recall of every grain in the wood and I have to go over lots and lots of pieces of wood. The analogy is also apt because while the axe is heavy and sharp and can do the intended job with great efficiency, it can also accidentally cleave your foot if you loose your focus. I will be chopping this wood for another three weeks and counting my toes afterwards.